Frayed
by cvttlefish
Summary: Luffy is a child of nature and Law is a medical student with a passion for tattoos. Modern AU.
1. Prologue

**I have no idea where I will be going with this plot-wise (you're free to leave some ideas, if you'd like), but here, enjoy. I don't own One Piece or any of it's characters.**

They meet in the middle of a bitter winter, with frost settling between Luffy's joints. Despite the chill, he's still in a pair of worn flip-flops, with the leather thong snug against his toes. He'd go barefoot all the time, if he could, but then he'd risk giving Ace a premature heart attack. Warm air courtesy of his lung heat his knuckles. Exhaled with an almost obnoxious _ah_ and then a childish laugh that matches his face. He's in the city's public library, a backpack with fabric similar to a potato bag slung over his shoulders. School uniform obscured by a large (large as in damn near reaches to his knees) cardigan, threads decorated in a blocky tree print. There's a straw hat bound by twine hanging off his neck.

He doesn't match at all; but that's okay—because it's Luffy.

One of Law's hands is curled around a paper cup filled to the brim with coffee (as black as his soul). It's companion is flipping through a medical textbook at an almost inhuman pace. There's a pair of glasses sliding down his nose, the black frame clashing with his somehow sickly-tan skin. He's dressed more appropriately for the weather: clad in black jeans and a dull gray sweater, with dirtied runners, and a coat slung over the spine of his chair. The bags underneath his eyes tell a tale of nights spent pouring over homework despite the fact that he's had one too many swigs of whiskey. He reeks of cigarettes and his ears are tucked underneath an out-of-place furry hat. He has some ink marks on the back of his hands—winding around his tattoos. Notes, because he ran out of room in his notebook.

How they meet, is a total and utter cliché. Luffy now has a similar cheap paper cup cradled between his hands. God bless the library's little café. Hot chocolate that warms his tongue and soul. Well, actually, it burns the tip of his tongue—he's much too impatient to wait for the drink to cool down. He's here to study, just like Law; Ace and Sabo are simply much too distracting of older brothers for Luffy to actually focus on homework. These tables and chairs are way too close together and Luffy nearly trips more than once as he weaves through them—until he actually does trip, foot caught around the leg of Law's chair. It's not a huge tumble. He loses his hot chocolate and the tops of his feet are scalded with the liquid. Luffy doesn't even notice. He's always had a high pain tolerance.

The fall he takes for Law, though, is much, much deeper.


	2. Expresso

Luffy likes the sound of his feet padding against the wet pavement—but he hasn't a clue on how to properly describe that sound. It's not exactly a _splat_, but it's also not the beat of simple footsteps. His ears hungrily hang onto the noise as well as the sound of raindrops hitting concrete; a din he's completely familiar with, being born and raised in Seattle. A homely sensation. His flip-flops are dangling from his fingers, index and flicker curled around the thong. He gets looks like this—walking around barefoot—but Luffy has never been one to care about such trivial affairs. A breeze flutters through his bangs, chilling his shins. The denim of his shorts have started to get damp, so it's a good thing that Luffy has finally arrived at his destination: the public library. Not the most riveting building to spend his weekend in, but he's supposed to be working on a project for his history class—and he can't focus with Ace strumming away on his guitar and Sabo's annoying cooing into a receiver (Koala's decision to study out of state has begun to affect all of them) (namely, Luffy can't get any of his homework done at home). His flip-flops land on the sidewalk with a clatter, Luffy slipping them onto his wet feet. Parading inside government owned buildings without shoes on is frowned upon, apparently.

The leather thongs are chafing between his toes; but he's used to it. The door opens with a rush of warm air and Luffy gives a contented sigh, letting his hood fall down. The fabric rest lazily over his favorite hat, that's clinging to his neck with twine arms—an old, withering straw-hat that was given to him by his adoptive father. Luffy's most treasured item—not hard to guess, considering the fact that the teenager keeps it on his person at all moments. He doesn't bother to let his feet dry. Just stomps them over the welcome rug for a moment, forcing the loose droplets off from his skin. It's a bit obnoxious, really, but he only just grins when the lady manning the check-out counter shoots him a dirty look—a big, wide ear-to-ear that she can't help but to smile in return to. A small curl of the lips that show she's already resigned to Luffy's actions. His skin is still a bit damp but that doesn't deter him from making his way deeper through the maze of bookshelves, taking a path to the back of the building; where there's a secluded corner of tables, perfect for parking his ass in a chair and studying.

Which is exactly what he does. Snuggles down into the cushion and digs a textbook and his notebook from his backpack. He sighs, a bit forlorn (ugh, _homework_), but dutifully, he cracks open both books and gets started. Occasionally, he stops and plays with his pencil, or doodles, or pops his knuckles; he's much too antsy to not take these little breaks. Luffy doesn't even notice the man hoarding the next table over—a man with his fingers practically attached to his keyboard, typing away. But then he looks over and, "Oh, hey, you're—" _the guy I almost spilled my hot chocolate on_.

Luffy actually blushes. Cheeks painted an uncomfortable cherry.

Said guy takes a peek over his laptop. Stares at Luffy for a moment with cocked eyebrows, squinting, before an expression of realization passes over his face. His top layer of teeth rake over his bottom lip, visage morphing into a manifestation of awkwardness—as if he's not quite sure how to respond.

Luffy spares the other the pain of responding. "Yeah, I—- sorry about almost spilling my hot chocolate on you."

The other male's face relaxes a bit. Runs a hand through his black hair and Luffy idly notices how messy the strands are. Hat hair. He thinks it fits the guy. "It's fine. Not like you actually spilled it on me."

Those words are all it takes for Luffy's face to be filled with a lip-splitting smile. Quite easily, he switches from bashful to his usual over-exuberance and sociability; always the extrovert. "I'm Luffy," he says, turning sideways in his chair and slinging an arm over the spine of the seat. "Who're you?" Always ever blunt, as well. Or so he's been told.

"Law." The answer is immediate. Short and crisp and Luffy is already getting a clue of Law's personality. It doesn't deter him in the slightest. Luffy rest his chin on his forearm and Law slides off his reading glasses, as if he somehow senses that Luffy isn't going to just stop there. Of course the teenager's smile only grows wider—making him eighty percent smile and twenty percent facial features.

"Law?" he muses lightly. "That's a cool name. I like it. So, what 'cha doin', Law?"

He's being stared at for a lingering moment. Luffy takes that time to observe the haunting dark circles plaguing Law's eyes. Insomnia? He has enough manners pounded into him to know that he shouldn't ask about that. _Yet_. Poised like a cat, Law lets one corner of his lips pull into something of a sardonic smirk. For only a second, and Luffy wonders if maybe that's just the other's natural disposition. "Writing an essay."

Luffy's head lulls into a tilt, like a curious puppy. "You're a student? You look too old." Ouch. If Makino were here, she'd scold him for being rude.

But Law just does that little smirk again—Luffy's eyes train onto the lines of his mouth—and he says, "A biomedical student." Luffy's face scrunches up as though he has just had something sour. Nose wrinkled and mouth puckered; Law can't help but to chuckle, just a little.

"That sounds hard." The tone is childish and a bit whimsical, as per usual—Luffy always has his head in the clouds, feet planted in the ground with dirt between his toes. His thin bottom lip curves into a subtle pout, biting lightly on the tip of his tongue. "A lot harder than what I'm doing." Or what he's currently procrastinating doing. Whatever. He has all of tomorrow to finish it anyways. The pout disappears, transforming into an almost blinding smile—all glimmering teeth and slim lips, before he proposes, "Maybe you should take a break. We could go out and have some coffee." It's a bit brazen; Luffy doesn't even register the simple implication of his words. Just an innocent little offer in his mind, and it's most certainly not because Luffy likes the other's tattoos or the high planes of his cheeks (which make Law appear almost _feline_). Luffy doesn't actually expect the other man to accept—he's obviously younger, and childish, and just _pure_—-

So it's a bit surprising when Law shrugs and says, "Sure."

**Still not quite sure where I'm going with this story. A bit short and a little boring, honestly, and maybe I'll find a beta-reader soon to double-check my grammar. But anyways, hope it tickles your fancy so far. **


	3. Nirvana

**Small warning: there's a pretty brief mention of masturbation in this chapter but it's very vague so I'm conflicted about whether or not I should change the rating—but if it bothers anyone, I will! So basically, yeah, all my chapters are short. I'd like to write longer ones, but I'm a slow writer and I work full-time so I don't really have the time to invest into longer chapters. Also, thank you to all the people who have reviewed thus far! I really appreciate it. **

* * *

Quite easily, both males fall into a comfortable pattern: of coffee (black, for Law, and smothered in milk and sugar for Luffy), crumbly banana nut muffins, and cloud-swirled tables. There was a café in the library, of course, but Luffy had chosen to conveniently ignore that fact, and Law decided to play along with him—stowing his laptop safely into his backpack and following the teenager through alleyways and rain. Luffy didn't have a set destination in mind—"_It's an adventure_," he had said, a cheery smile lined with sunlight playing on his lips as he slipped off his flip-flops. Eventually, the two had stumbled upon a quint, little store aptly named, '_The Coffee Bean_'; the tables inside were old and worn, chipped wood twirling artfully on the tops. And maybe it should have been awkward—but rather, Luffy is impartial to such emotions, and Law simply doesn't care. The elder had slouched back in his chair as Luffy talked, fingertips tracing the marks splayed over their table (tucked away in the corner of the café). Instead of looking into Luffy's eyes, Law stared at the crumbs sticking to the corner of the teenager's mouth—all of which was left of the muffin they split in half.

Luffy talks too much. Law talks too little. Maybe they're a match made in Heaven. Luffy is just a little smitten with Law's tattoos and the small twist of the man's mouth as he smiles. "Give me your phone number." He doesn't poise this _question_ with as much subtly as when he asked Law to coffee (okay, so he wasn't subtle then, either); after all, Law hadn't turned him down then, so why would he now?

It doesn't take Luffy very long to learn that Law doesn't actually smile—not with his lips, at least. No, instead, there's a small curve on one corner of the man's lips and a slight pucker, but moreso, there's a smile in his eyes. Luffy can see it in the glimmer behind coal and storm-gray, coated with eyelashes. Law has short eyelashes, he notices. "No please?"

"_Please_," Luffy says. And he means it.

There isn't a single part of Law that can refuse the boy.

* * *

Luffy's spine is curled over the arm of his (or rather, Makino and Shank's) (_mom and dad's_) sofa, mouth parted and eyes fluttered shut as Nirvana's '_Pennyroyal Tea_' blast through his headphones and reverberates through his brain. He's actually fairly apathetic towards the fabled band (he leans more towards acoustic and airy—due to Ace's influence), but it's Law's favorite song. And that means a lot, but right now, it doesn't carry much weight on Luffy's shoulders. His legs are crisscross-apple-sauce and they bounce as a big lug of one hundred and fifty-three pounds throws himself onto the couch to join Luffy.

Barely, Luffy lifts his head, peeking a single eye open to get a face-full of a grinning Ace. Broad shoulders are still clad in his work shirt, the scent of plastic and generic groceries clinging to the elder. His older brother's lips are moving, speaking, but of course Luffy doesn't hear with his headphones cupped over his ears. Lazily, a hand flits up, sliding a single ear cup behind his cartilage. Nirvana is still lambasting the silence, but at least he'll be able to hear Ace now. He blinks slowly, cheeks feathered with long lashes and droopy lids. "What was that?"

Ace's lips pucker into something of a wry smile. He wrinkles his nose, the freckles peppering over his skin being crinkled up as well. "You're listening to Nirvana? You're not going to hop onto the Kurt Cobainism train, are you?"

"Says the one who knew it was Nirvana," Luffy retorts dryly. "Is that really a thing? Kurt Cobainism?"

"Oh, you are so _sheltered_."

"And whose fault is that?" When they were younger, it was most definitely Luffy who had a brother(s) complex. He was that annoying younger sibling who insisted on being around whenever Ace or Sabo had friends over and would try to delve into their world of lockers and free periods. The axis shifted as the three boys grew older though; Luffy found his own circle of friends, own interest, and the two older brothers found themselves missing their cute little brother who idolized them. So, of course, the only option for them now is to be fiercely over-protective.

Ace doesn't get a chance to reply. Luffy's phone lights up, vibrating in his hoody pocket, and the boy's attention is almost completely invested onto the device. And the elder watches as his little brother's face brightens up, lips splitting into a wide, toothy grin. Big enough to make his eyes scrunch up. His cheeks are rosy, flushed in a glow of happiness. Ace squints. Squints even more, and watches the light reflecting off of Luffy's eyes. The expression on his brother's face is a foreign one—one he's never seen the boy direct towards Usopp (Luffy's best, best, _best _friend), or Nami (their neighbor, and second-best as Usopp likes to say), or him and Sabo, or Makino, or well, _any of their family and friends_. A sort of dopey joy lined with reverence. Almost as if he's—-"Do you… Have a crush on someone?" he asks, in mild disbelief.

Those ebony irises flash to Ace instantly, thin lips parted—it seems Luffy is in disbelief as well. "Wha—- Of course not!" His text—to Law—is sent and Luffy locks his screen, shifting his headphones to rest on the crooks of his neck. The mobile device is stuffed into his pocket, hidden like a dirty little secret. And Ace is staring at him with the most dumb expression, eyes wide and gaping, so Luffy shoves the other away and marches up the stairs to his room, completely intending to lock himself behind the door until dinner time.

Luffy so does not have a crush.

* * *

Okay, so maybe Luffy has a crush; and it's completely terrifying. This isn't some tale of betrayal, or of a man in love with his lack of commitment. This is a tale of assumed asexuality and aromanticism and an utter uprooting of beliefs and comfort. Wood crackles and snaps, Luffy groans into his pillow, and he's so hot and humiliated—half-hard in a ripped pair of basketball shorts and pressed against his mattress. Which isn't extremely unusual—asexuality is such a broad spectrum and he gets just as aroused as the next eighteen-year-old boy, but there was always a disconnection between his brain and body. Luffy would just feel, but he'd never think, never think about people, and certainly never think about a twenty-two-year-old man covered in tattoos.

He groans into his pillow again, biting down on the cover, and turns his head barely on a pivot, looking at his clock that illuminates 3:02 a.m. Barely, he can hear the strumming of a guitar coming from Ace's room. Luffy is filled to the brim with a rush of shame and guilty-pleasure as his hand, sandwiched between his mattress and his body, slides down his stomach, fingering at the waistband of his shorts.

He's in the solitary comfort of his room, Ace won't hear a peep from him, and it isn't as if he hasn't done this before. Yet, for some reason, Luffy feels as though the world is watching him.

Masked behind a bated breath, he mumbles in the darkness, "_Law_."


	4. Green nuts and inked skulls

**I really liked doing this chapter 'cause, like, I have this whole list of modern One Piece head canons, and I got to explore them a little in this chapter. Maybe one day, I'll write them all out and post them on tumblr or something, but I have a friggen' ton of head canons for this AU, okay. Also, in response to jgrl68's comment: oh, god, I really wanted to explore writing asexual Luffy. Like, Oda has already (unless this information was false) explicitly stated that Luffy is pretty much asexual, but asexuality is a broad, _broad _spectrum. Like usually, people think that asexuality is just having little to no sexual desire, and while that, yes, is the end-all definition, there are _a lot more_ definitions for asexuality. In this story, the head canon is that Luffy is comfortable with feeling arousal and with masturbation, but he's never explicitly thought about another person sexually or had a desire to be with another person in such a way.**

**Okay, I should stop myself now, or I'll go on forever with my head canons for this story. **

* * *

"Should you really have done that?" flowed from Luffy's tiers at the same time Sabo breathed out, "Mom is going to _kill you_."

In front of them, Ace is shirtless, and straining his arms behind his back to rub some more (of what Luffy assumed was) scentless lotion onto his obviously fresh tattoo. The un-inked skin around is puffy and an angry red that almost makes Luffy want to cringe—and Ace is having some trouble, only managing to slather the edges of his gargantuan back piece. "Shut the damn door and help me out, will you?"

Sabo lets out a whoosh of air, the sigh a little amazed and a little apprehensive, and then he's shoving Luffy inside the brother's joint bathroom, closing and locking the door. "How long have you even had that thing?" The blonde's voice is hushed and hissed.

Ace doesn't seem effected by the tone, shrugging before wincing from the movement and letting out a little noncommittal grunt. "I think I had my first session about three months ago. I just finished all of it—" He spares a look at the clock hung by their mirror, while also handing Luffy his half-way filled bottle of lotion. The boy helps immediately, slathering his hands—he's obviously much more willing to be a part of this endeavor than Sabo. "Two hours and forty-five minutes ago."

"_Holy fuck, man_," Sabo says, and Luffy just laughs, trying to keep the noise down, "How have you been hiding that thing for three months?" He stares at Luffy and Ace, watching Ace flinch slightly when Luffy rubs lotion in too hard. (Luffy just snickers, finding amusement in how tender his big, strong brother is at the moment.)

Another wince and wrinkle of a freckled nose. "It wasn't that hard. I just didn't change outside of my room or wear tanks."

"You won't be able to get away with that in summer," Luffy chimes in helpfully. He's tracing the lines of the skull inked across Ace's back, finding a weird sense of comfort and nostalgia in the act. Maybe, just maybe, he's thought about doing this to Law's tattoos, in the comfort of his room. Luffy switches that thought off, going back to the action of rubbing a copious amount of lotion into Ace's back.

"Shit, you're right." There's a trace of realization and dread in his voice. Ace hadn't thought about that. Makino would know right away that something was up, considering that he usually goes shirtless all summer long. "I'm dead. I'm so dead. I only have, like, seven more months to live before I meet my ultimate demise."

Luffy claps a lotion-slicked hand onto his older brother's shoulder before looking over at Sabo with a serious expression, saying staidly, "I call his room."

Sabo's laugh reverberates through the entire two-story house.

* * *

**[SMS – 10:28 p.m.] my brother got a tattoo and when my mom sees it, she is going to kill him.**

Of course, the first person Luffy tells is Law. The man is the only person with tattoos that Luffy knows, asides from Nami and Nojiko—and he's not cruel enough to damn Ace to such a fate. The girls aren't above blackmail, after all. He leans back, cracking his spine over the sofa arm, with his phone cradled between his palms as he waits for a reply. One of his feet is stuffed underneath Sabo's thigh, soaking up the other's warmth. The elder is scrutinizing his cellphone as well, more than likely talking with Koala. Ace is in the only recliner, guitar in his arms with an empty piece of sheet music resting on his thigh. There are some old cartoons playing on the television—just background noise.

**[SMS RECEIVED –10:31 p.m.] Is it at least a good tattoo? **

**[SMS – 10:31 p.m.] yeah! it's pretty awesome. it's this giant ass skull that takes up most of his back.**

Indiscreetly, Ace nudges Sabo's shoulder with his guitar, using his chin to gesture at their younger brother—who is biting down his smile, nerves fluttering, as he decides not to wait for Law's reply before asking:

**[SMS – 10:32 p.m.] do you want to hang out tomorrow?**

Luffy doesn't even notice the eyes lingering on him. Sabo squints, noticing with a slight start that there's a tinge of pink on the peaks of his younger brother's cheeks. If he would look closer, maybe he'd recognize the nervous and hesitant glint to Luffy's coal-black irises. The blond swivels back to Ace, sharing the same bewildered expression.

**[SMS RECEIVED – 10:33 p.m.] That sounds cool. Are we going to get coffee?**

Is that a yes? Luffy is going to take it as a yes. He swipes his tongue over his chapped lips—a reminder to buy chap stick.

**[SMS – 10:34 p.m.] anything is fine. i just want to hang out with you. **

Nor does he notice that Ace has stopped strumming or that Sabo isn't looking at his phone any longer. His incisors dig a little harder into his bottom lip, doing their best to stifle the smile threatening to take over his mouth.

**[SMS RECEIVED – 10:35 p.m.] I have to run some errands tomorrow. You could come along with me and then we could decide what to do afterwards? **

The lip falls free of teeth, a stream of almost soundless chuckles escaping his throat. Luffy doesn't even know why he's laughing. He just feels giddy.

**[SMS – 10:35 p.m.] sounds good!**

* * *

The morning sun creeps in along the edges of his curtains, bubbling in a shade of dull-rust colors behind his eyelids. His eyes clench shut even tighter, wanting to hang onto a few more moments of slumber; but Luffy can smell the bacon and eggs Makino is most certainly cooking and, well, Shanks is completely correct when he says that Luffy thinks with his stomach. He groans, pressing his face against his pillow for a lingering minute before forcing his body up and into start. He rubs his eyes hard enough for white glitters of light to burst and twists his torso to release the pressure in his spine. The sharp cracks are relieving and they help him wake up enough to stand on jelly legs.

Luffy is still rubbing his eyes when he reaches the bottom of the stairs. Usually, he's not this tired, but he stayed up later than normal, texting Law, discussing anything from their favorite episodes of _Scrubs_ (Law is a huge fan) to the paper Luffy has yet to finish for his Creative Writing class.

Makino is the only one in the kitchen. They're always the first two up—and also (usually, but today isn't a great example for Luffy) the only morning people in the house. Sabo and Shanks are something of afternoon and early night people, while Ace is sometimes awake until six in the morning. His mother looks up from the eggs she's scrambling, looking over her youngest with a warm smile. "Good morning."

"Good mornin'," he croaks—albeit, as fondly as he can in his toad-dry voice—before drowsily stumbling over to the fridge for a bottle of water. Reusable, of course. Neither Luffy nor Makino agree with plastic water bottles. _Green nuts_, Shanks calls them dotingly. Makino laughs, the sound tinkering comfortingly in the air along with the sizzling of their stovetop. It makes the teenager smile—Luffy loves his mother's giggles. It's a fairytale laugh, and it reminds him how lucky he is that such kind-hearted people took him, Ace, and Sabo in.

"Didn't get a lot of sleep?" she questions knowingly. Luffy confirms this with a nod, taking a big gulp of water. It fills his cheeks up, puffing them out like a chipmunk. He sits down in front of their countertop, leaning forward in the barstool as Makino sets down a plate of food for him. "Extra bacon just for you. Don't let any of the other boys know."

He grins widely at her, a hand coming up in a mock salute as he says, "Aye, aye, Captain!" before digging into his meal.

"Are you going out today?" The answer will probably be yes. It's a weekend, and Luffy, their little social butterfly, almost always has plans.

With a mouthful of food, he hums as an affirmative, chewing loudly as Sabo saunters into the kitchen, half asleep. The blonde boy gives his mother a morning kiss on the cheek, sniffing away the drowsiness as he brews himself a cup of coffee. It's still too early for him. Luffy swallows. "Yeah, I'm hanging out with a friend today. We haven't figured out what we'll do yet, though."

Sabo, who is leaning heavily against the fridge, looks over at his brother, some of the curiosity from last night still in his eyes. "Are you hanging out with Usopp and them today?" he poses the question innocently.

"Nope!" Luffy shovels in another mouthful of scrambled eggs, continuing around them, "With my friend Law."

Huh. That's a new name to him. He's about to ask more but Makino cuts in with a gentle but reprimanding stare. "Don't talk with your mouth full. And don't stay out too late, okay? Tomorrow is Monday."

Luffy groans, letting his head flop dejectedly onto the marble countertop. "Yeah, I know," he mumbles.

He still hasn't finished his homework.


	5. Hallend Market

**The progression between Law and Luffy is finally, kind of happening? This chapter is short (as per usual), sorry. And, and, _and_, I would love a beta reader—or, well, someone who'd be up to discussing ideas for this story with me. My grammar is usually pretty good, so no worries about that. I just have a vague idea of where I am going with this story, but I still struggle with some parts, and I don't have any friends who follow One Piece, so I don't have anyone to bounce ideas off of. If you're interested, you can talk to me here, or on my tumblr—the link is in my about. **

* * *

"So, where to first?" Luffy isn't even fully seated in Law's passenger seat yet—only having just hopped in, one leg in and the other out the door. He's never been inside Law's car—a 2012 Ford Mustang—before; just next to it, and he can't seem to stop his hands from roaming over the (p)leather seats. The teenager is a tad nervous, and by extension, antsy, but Luffy has always had trouble staying still, so he doesn't think Law will notice.

Law looks at him from the corner of his eyes, hand ready to shift into drive as soon as Luffy closes the door. His hair is trapped underneath a knit beanie, embroidered with skulls, and the Luffy can't help but to chuckle—it seems that Law still has some Halloween spirit left; but then again, the man is always morose. There are tones of gray, different shades of black surrounding Law, but they're offset by Luffy's eye-wateringly bright red sweater. His pants are colored with a hint of sea foam green and Luffy is _most definitely_ a Christmas person, if the coloring isn't a good enough clue. "Just the bank," he answers, "and the grocery store. We'll have to stop by my apartment to put them up." All of Luffy's limbs are inside the car now, door shut, and he's blowing warm air onto his knuckles to warm them. There's a hum of the engine as it jumps forward—Law is humming too, noncommittally, but Luffy has the feeling that he's slightly amused by something. "You'll get to meet my dog."

"Bepo?" Luffy's face has already lit up with excitement, affection for a dog he has yet to meet seeping from his pores. Law has sent him a plethora of pictures, of a big Samoyed who looks more like a bear than a dog. Luffy said that he looked like a cloud too, and said that he just wants to hug him and bury his face in his fur. Law cracked a smile and held his dog closer when he heard that through his phone receiver, but he's not going to let Luffy know that. Luffy leans forward in his seat, no seatbelt on. "What about your roommates?"

"Shachi is at work. Penguin might be home," Law says, wrinkling his nose as Luffy chimes in with a laugh. Law doesn't remember when or how him and Shachi started dubbing their friend 'Penguin', but Luffy thinks it's hilarious.

Luffy's mouth is still up-turned. His fingers clench around the edge of his seat and Law cranks up the heat. "Are you going to get bacon? I've been craving it." Never mind that he had some this morning.

His driver snorts. "You know, you sure eat a lot of meat for a tree-hugger." There's a lilt to his tone that tells Luffy that Law's just teasing.

He retorts, "Well, I have to have some flaws, right? Can't be too perfect."

* * *

Grocery shopping with Law is everything Luffy could have ever hoped for and more. Law carries around a list and pushes the cart while Luffy scolds him, _because ramen is not dinner_. Law knows this, of course, but it's not for him; it's for Shachi. They banter over what to get, what to cross off the list, and Luffy pleads for Law to buy him a bag of marked-down Halloween candy. Maybe he even flits a hand over the man's forearm, and makes his eyes all big and wide, brimming with the crocodile tears he has perfected.

Law easily gives in and Luffy grins triumphantly. Everyone is putty to that look of his. He's all childish smiles and shining eyes, and he thinks he'd like to do this again. Thinks he'd like to go grocery shopping with Law every week and argue over what _they'll_ be having for dinner. And then they'll go home, but they'll be too lazy, too tired, to unload anything but the perishables; so they'll do just that before sitting on the couch and kissing and cuddling with each other and Bepo. A perfect, stupid, domestic fairytale.

Is it too early for Luffy to be imagining this? He doesn't know; he's too new to this whole '_crush_' thing.

There's about three-fourths of one of his _Twizzlers_ left. Instead of eating it, Luffy holds it up to Law's lips—it won't distract the man from driving. They're at a red light. He's only a little surprised when Law actually eats it, lips brushing along his fingertips—but he's gotten used to Law's odd, silent and subdued affection that is masked with smirks and sharp quips. He's used to it, and Luffy is afraid because he wants more of it.

"My dad owns a grocery store," he says conversationally. "Well, co-owns it with my Uncle Benn. And it's somewhere in-between small and big, with a lot of organic stuff 'cause my mom and I like it. I work there sometimes during the summers—it's called Hallend Market. Ever been there?"

Law swallows his broken-down Twizzler. "The one near the library?" Luffy grins and gives a bouncy nod, even though Law is looking at the road. "Yeah, I've been in there once or twice to pick up cigarettes."

"One of my older brothers—the one who got the tattoo—works there fulltime. And then he plays music at clubs and stuff during the night." The light turns to green from red, the car accelerating with a comforting growl. "You could come with me to watch him play, one day, if you want."

The man is turning into an apartment complex, with Green Day's '_Brain Stew_' mutely flowing through the stereo. Ace and Law's music taste differ, acoustic and ragged, but Luffy still thinks that Law would have a good time. "I'll go with you," he concedes, pulling into a parking spot and turning off his car—and then he turns to the younger, subtly smiling, "but only if you help me carry the groceries in."

Luffy's head lulls onto the headrest, eyes fluttering and lips twitching with a soft, sort-of, beam. "I was going to help you anyways."


	6. Three eyed alien

**Short as heck chapter again, I am sorry. I spent a good part of my day at the DMV and it has sucked out my soul basically, all for a stupid replacement license. But yeah, this is my day off and will be my only day off for about a week and a half, so I wanted to upload this despite being short. **

* * *

Fingertips linger over the corner, trailing rough and calloused along the edge of a sketchbook—an old, faded memoir that was tucked underneath Law's coffee table. Coffee beans stretch throughout the air, while windows are cracked, so nicotine and rain mix in the atmosphere. Luffy sucks in a deep breathe through his nose; he can smell the trees, smell wet grass and soppy dirt, and he can also smell the slow burning cherry of Law's cigarette. One of his hands leaf through Law's old sketchbook, filled to the brim with abstract and realism, while the other hand is buried in Bepo's thick mane of fur. The dog took immediately to Luffy, wagging his tail at sixty miles per hour and panting out his enthusiastic greeting before settling down and snuggling up to Luffy on the couch as he and Law decided on a movie to watch.

Luffy curls his fingers, scratching behind Bepo's ear—Law sets two mugs of coffee down and they're hot enough to be steaming. Another page is turned, and Luffy blurts, "You're really good." And he's not lying. There are demons on these pages, flutters between the never-ending clouds, and cracks into other dimensions. Monochrome, but still a world filled with color.

A smile curls at Law's lips, tiny and beautiful. Mutters a small, "Thank you," that makes Luffy's heart clench. "I had a hard time deciding whether or not I wanted to study medicine or apprentice at a tattoo shop, but studying and drawing in my free time suffices well enough."

"Why not both?" Luffy leans forward, jostling Bepo from his nap, and absentmindedly notices that Law's couch is a dark brown (one of his favorite colors), muddled with white hairs. The mug is warm against his palm and his nose wrinkles up from the bitter taste, stinging in his throat and numbing his tongue.

There's a small twinkle of amusement in Law's eyes. The light from the television, where credits are rolling by, is cast off those eyes. "Maybe one day." Luffy takes another sip of his coffee, haphazardly burning his tongue again, while Law lets his cool. "After we finish, I should take you home. You still have homework, right?"

Luffy groans. Law should take him home, he really should, but Luffy really doesn't want to actually go home. He doesn't want this to end, he wants to stay with Law, and he certainly doesn't want to do his homework. "…Yeah," he relents.

The older man coughs to hide a chuckle, spine lax and slung forward to grab his cup. There's still a grin on his lips. "You should go to the library after you get out," he says. "I'll be there."

"Sure—but you have to help me with my homework!" It isn't anything new, but Luffy thinks this is the first time that Law has asked.

Their knees bump together. Law actually lets his laugh out—quiet and contained, but a laugh nonetheless—and gives a nod of consent. He has taken his beanie off after getting home, but the locks are still messy. "I was going to help you anyways," he repeats, steals Luffy's words.

* * *

The clock ticks slowly, second by second, and Luffy's eyes are glued to the incremental movement of its arms. The tip of his pencil is being tapped against his desk in time with every second past—he's already so antsy and it's only second period. Not that it's anything new; Luffy's ADHD keeps him from sitting still, always has. He squirms in his seat for the sixth time this hour, bringing his legs up to cross them, one knee tucked up with the edge of his desk jamming into his shin.

Usopp sneaks a look up from his paper—or well, from the doodle of an alien in the margins of his schoolwork. There's a band aide on his cheek, clashing with his dark complexion; he's clumsy, so there's almost always a bandage somewhere on his body. A curl is sprung from the rest of his hair contained with a ponytail and a single eyebrow cocked.

Luffy wonders how his friend can be so utterly unfocused and still maintain straight A's.

His voice is hushed underneath the bubble of silence, "What's up? You're squirming more than usual."

"Am I?" Luffy doesn't bother to quiet his voice into a whisper. It's just a study period—but who actually studies? Not Luffy. He hums, sole pattering in his chair. "'Dunno. Just want school to be out."

There's a snort dragged from Usopp's larynx and he begins to stencil a third eye smack-dab in the middle of his alien's forehead. Paired with the fangs and tentacles, it makes for a pretty terrifying extraterrestrial. "So, the same as every other school day?"

A small noise of agreement and a nod, maybe along with a discreet chortle. Luffy just isn't meant to be cooped up. No, he'd much rather be spending time with Law.

"I think I like someone," he says, conversationally. Casually, like he definitely doesn't think, but _knows_. Luffy likes someone. This is the first time he's said it out loud and his ears pulse and his mind reels because, _wow_, he likes someone.

Usopp chokes, maybe. Coughs around his spit. "You—- What?"

"I like someone." It's a little softer this time. The breath that was trapped in his throat is let out as a sigh. Wispy, and dancing as a tickle around his lips.

For some reason, he's happy but he also feels like he's been punched in the gut.


	7. Powder blue

**This took me so darn long to finish, oh god. Between work and how crazy it's been due to Christmas being near, I just couldn't sit down and concentrate. But hey! This chapter! Is finally done! **

* * *

The edge of Luffy's cardigan is trapped between his numb fingertips, locks of wet-plaster black hair stuck to his forehead. His hair is getting a little too long and wavy, damp with rainwater. Paired with his wide eyes (_from your mother_, his grandfather used to tell him) and the round rubicund apples of his cheeks, Luffy looks quite pretty with a masculine, boyish charm. Maybe it's an odd appearance, but he doesn't mind. He's not big and strong like Ace, or traditionally handsome like Sabo, but he has his own charisma that takes form in the appearance of high cheekbones—courtesy of his Japanese heritage—, a sharp, slim nose that surprisingly doesn't have any cracks in it, despite the number of fights he's been in, and a thin upper lip with a kinda-full bottom lip. And—- usually he doesn't give much thought to his appearance, but lately, he can't seem to help it. Can't help but to ponder if Law thinks he's pretty, or handsome, or both.

Can't help but to fear that Law doesn't think he's either.

Luffy sighs and wrings the yarn of his cardigan tighter. His knuckles are bone-white, taunt. Feet pad along the sidewalk, toes cold and pads rough against the concrete. The pace is sluggish, even though there are butterflies fluttering in the pit of Luffy's tummy. Lips are pressed together in a tight line; he's nervous, and terribly inexperienced. Perhaps a bit resentful. Each feeling is a strand of string, and they're all woven, tangled together into a tight ball. Luffy just can't appear to disentangle them. Like he's just taken a pen and scribbled—where does it start and where does it end?

He's close to arriving at the library. He's nervous. And terribly inexperienced, and young, and he's most definitely worrying over nothing, but those emotions keep reverberating. This isn't like him at all.

* * *

Law is lounging back in his chair—lax and there is possibly a little smirk-smile playing at his lips. But there's a tinge of warmth in the Cheshire curl of his mouth, boiling a blush on Luffy's cheeks —_as if that isn't obvious at all_. Luffy leans back against the spine of his own chair, knees pressed tight together, with his hands snug between his thighs. His jeans are black, in regulation with his school's uniform policy, and the fabric is itchy against his knuckles.

A palm props up Law's chin, fingers curled and resting against his left cheek. "Don't you have some homework?"

Luffy peeks up, ink irises glimpsing through his lashes. "Yeah, but I—" He puckers one corner of his mouth, letting out a puff of air, "I don't think I can focus on it right now." A hand is lifted—a hand with long, spindly fingers and big, bruised knuckles—and those knuckles press lightly against Luffy's temple. Those fingers have an edge of elegances, but Luffy thinks that Law's tattooed fingers are prettier. They're slim, with a wide, smooth palm—and Luffy has most definitely not thought about how those palms would feel sliding over the taunt skin of his hips. Another knock to his head. "My skull is all empty."

He's _so_ not thinking about it right now.

Law laughs a bit and lets his head tip lazily to the side, staring unwaveringly at the younger with hooded eyes. He has dark circles that do nothing to detract from his appearance; if anything, they add to his air of mystery. "Do you ever have anything in it?" There's a playful lilt to Law's tone that tells Luffy that the man is just teasing. Suddenly, his lithe body is pushing back from their joint table, chair legs screeching along the ground. Law stands, stretches, and shows off how truly tall he really is.

Luffy hopes he isn't too obvious with his gaping. (He is.)

"Well, if you're not going to do any work, why don't we take a walk?" And Law smiles—in that strange, condescending way of his, with a fond glint in his dark eyes—holding out an open hand, palm up.

Luffy grabs on tightly.

* * *

"Thank you for the food!" Luffy exclaims around a bite of cotton candy. The sun is setting, barely obvious through the obscuring rain clouds, and there's a downpour still, of course; but they've managed to stay semi-dry, sticking close to the downtown buildings. Luffy doesn't notice how Law walks on his left side—the side closer to the street.

They're still holding hands. Their fingers aren't intertwined, but their palms are pressed snugly together, clinging in a childish manner. Law snorts, ending on a small snicker. "You really are like a little kid."

There's an offended sound gurgling in the back of Luffy's throat, drowned out by cotton candy. Cheeks puff out, and he's sulking, maybe—with slightly squinted eyes and a wrinkled nose. And Law can't help but to laugh, loudly, boisterously, because now Luffy even looks like a little brat.

Luffy huffs. "Yeah, well, you like this little kid," he says, but he's not really even thinking—it just kind of slips out.

Law leans down, shoulders diagonal, and he's tall enough, long enough, to almost be face-to-face with Luffy, despite his feet being planted at the younger's side. The man smirks, blinks slowly, and damn near purrs, "Yeah, I do."

Streetlamps glitter off his eyes. His feet avoid stepping on the cracks in the pavement—"_I don't wanna break my mother's back_," Luffy had said, practically skipping earlier. There's a band aide wrapped snug around his thumb, that hand curled around the handle of his cotton candy—the saccharine floss that is colored a powder blue.

And Luffy's other hand is clammy against his palm, but he holds on so securely.

Law leans down further. A tiny piece of cotton candy is stuck to the corner of Luffy's lips—it's sticky against his own tiers, sweet on his tongue. And if Luffy presses closer, and if Law licks into his mouth, then it's lost in the rain.


	8. Know that I'm here

**Kay, first order of business: props to ninjabunny11 for being an awesome beta reader, 'cause there's no way I would have been able to do this chapter without them! Secondly, thank you, thank you, thank you for all the sweet reviews I've been getting. You guys are seriously all wonderful little cupcakes and I love you. **

* * *

Luffy curls his toes, feeling the chill in the air through his thick socks. His _Adidas_ sweatpants are loose around his legs, hood thrown over his head and blocking out the yellow light from his single desk lamp. The sleeves of his jacket are pulled over his fingers, clenching onto the fabric. It's almost eleven at night, but Makino and Shanks are over at his Uncle Ben's place, so Luffy has music streaming through his stereo—Glass Animal's '_Gooey_' filling up the empty spaces. There's a candle lit, melted wax the scent of old Christmas, and the flame flickers off his walls, playing in the dark corners. He's feeling a bit numb, blank behind his eyes, and every time they close, glitters of colors play on his lids.

He groans, rolling onto his stomach. His comforter is crumpled underneath him, and it's uncomfortable. Luffy presses his face plush against his pillow. Bites on the cover and groans again, in his throat. And shit, he really needs to piss, but he doesn't want to get out of bed.

Because then, when he runs into Ace, his big brother will ask, '_What's wrong?_'. Which, of course, Luffy doesn't know. He hasn't a clue of what's wrong. But there has to be a reason he skipped school and spent all day in bed, right?

He rolls back onto his spine. The shadows and lights seem to dance along with his music. It's a comfort, vibrating and bumping in his eardrums. Luffy doesn't know it, but his cheeks are a little flushed, eyes swollen. Maybe he really did get sick, spending yesterday in the rain. Or maybe, Law was sick and passed it on to him when they kissed—-

Luffy coughs, flushing an even deeper red—and at the same time, his cellphone goes off, screen annoyingly florescent in the darkness of his room. His eyes flutter shut, he sighs, and reaches blindly for his phone, only revealing his irises when he finally grasps the device.

**[SMS RECEIVED – 11:04 p.m.] You weren't at the library today.**

Teeth gnaw into his bottom lip, tearing off some chapped skin. Luffy thinks about how to reply, and he also thinks about how Law's tongue tasted like nicotine. Thinks about how awkward it was after the kiss, how rosy his face was, Law's smirk, and how he'd stuttered out, '_I-I should go-o home_.'

The chapped skin taste like his strawberry Chap Stick. Law's tang of stale smokes and oranges was good, and the kiss was good (then again, Luffy's only other kiss to compare was Vivi's in eighth-grade; she tasted like cherry lip gloss, and it was a strong, and really sweet).

His palm is sweating, and all he can think about is Law's tongue against his. And suddenly, his room is smoldering hot. There's a bead of perspiration on his forehead, eyes foggy, jacket stuck to the bare skin of his back. Luffy leaves his phone on his end table and throws off his jacket, goose bumps rising on his torso. His spine arches like an ice cream spoon, hips shifting with discomfort, and _fuck_, he's half-hard.

He has to be sick. He's not going to touch himself. He's sick. He's scared. He's not going to touch himself thinking of Law.

**[SMS – 11:10 p.m.] i'm sick.**

* * *

Gut tight and body full of sloshing liquid, Luffy forces himself down the dim hallway—Ace's door is cracked open, guitar strumming, voice ringing in the air, "_Sleep sound, sleep tight, here in my mind_."* It's a sweet song, buttery and romantic, and Luffy stiffens when he hears a giggle chime in from behind him. And _holy shit_, Luffy almost pisses his pants as he damn near breaks his neck, craning to see that, _oh_, its just Monet behind him.

Her grin grows, hand flitting to tuck a lock of coarse, bleached and then died foam green hair behind her pierced ear. The bar in her ear is black now, rather than the standard silver indie bar she previously had in. Her thin, petite fingers stretch out, wide in a wave. "Hey there."

Luffy is about to ask what she's doing here, but the answer is already pretty obvious. Suddenly the cheesy song Ace is strumming makes more sense.

_("You guys are so dating." Sabo doesn't even look up from his homework as he says this._

_Ace hisses in response, lips curled and cheeks suspiciously flushed, "We're not dating! Monet and I are just friends."_

"_Friends who sing together, go out to dinner, and fuck.")_

So, instead of asking that, he just points at her nose—specifically, at the ring now adorning her septum. "When did you get that done?" Luffy thinks Monet has had about twelve piercings in her lifetime. She's gotten three more just since she and Ace started dating. Which is cool—he's always wanted to get his bridge done, but there's no way that shit would fly with Makino.

Monet's hand goes to scratch the nose in question, but it stops, hovering in the air in front of her face. "Yesterday. Ace talked me into it."

He wonders if she talked Ace into getting his tattoo—he remembers her mentioning that she likes them.

Tattoos. Law. The kiss. Maybe he should text Law back. '_What's wrong?_'

What is wrong?

And now Monet is waving that stilted hand in front of his eyes, blinking curiously at him. They're wide eyes, and Luffy thinks they're pretty—such a light brown in color that they almost appear amber. "Hey, Anchor—," she picked up that nickname from Shanks, "You okay? You seem a little out of it."

There's still music pouring from his open door; Gotye's '_Hearts A Mess_'. Ace isn't strumming, nor singing anymore. His heart palpitates in time with the low beat, and Luffy feels a little numb, like the calm before a storm. But he also feels kind of like a broken faucet. Dripping, dripping, dripping, and he's rusted and needs to be cleaned out._ Your heart's a mess_. Yeah, thanks, Gotye; he knows.

"I'm having a problem," he admits.

"'Bout time you spilled." The gruff baritone of his brother's voice overpowers his music. Ace leans against his doorsill, an eyebrow cocked.

* * *

***The song Ace was singing is '_Heart Like Yours_' by Wilamette Stone. This is how I imagine his voice to sound like in this story.**


	9. Breath out

**A happy, happy chapter. Kind of. The happy before a mixed-up feeling storm. Also, I totally recommend watching 'If I Stay'. The commercial really didn't do it any justice, but yeah, it's a really good movie, and an even better book. **

* * *

If there's one thing Luffy hates about his brother's room, it's the clock—tick, tick, ticking right in his ear, but Ace finds it comforting. Says it's like a metronome, and that makes him feel in tune. However, it makes Luffy feel nervous and he leans forward, thin fingers digging into his brother's blanket, knees pressing together.

At least he's not hard anymore.

Ace and Monet stare at him in unison, tag teaming, and Ace even has his arms crossed, like Shanks when the man is scolding him; but Monet is just gazing, curious, and with an earnest sense of concern. And Luffy thinks, not for the first time, that he really, really adores Ace's girlfriend, with a pang of guilt in his chest. He must have been making his family worry.

Monet's hands fold together, the spine of Ace's swivel chair creaking as she shifts. "So, Anchor." She clears her throat, holding out a palm to gesture at Ace, eyebrows cocked. "How may we help you?"

Both Ace and Luffy can't help but to laugh—or, well, a snort in Ace's case. The corners of his lips swerve up, usually cocky smirk in place, and Ace is always like that. Self-assured and confident. Luffy is too, usually, (in a much more light, cheery way) but today, he feels _small_, so Ace's buoyancy is reassuring. Like his brother is confident, and happy, and loud enough for the both of them.

The laugher dies down, it's last, flickering lights a glimmer in the darkness. The smile is still tugging at Ace's lips, but he licks them and keeps looking at Luffy, eyes a hard coal, concern a molten lava underneath. Monet's hand falls back into her lap, pressed warm between her knees, and only Ace knows that it's an anxious gesture of hers. The silence is pressing in on Luffy's ears, and he misses the music that was reverberating in them. The music that's been replaced by Ace's damn clock and his pounding heart. His voice is trapped in his throat but the quiet is caving in on him. His heart feels like it's going to jump up his throat, upchucked like vomit, and it's ridiculous; why is he so scared? What's wrong?

"I—-" Luffy's voice cracks, hitching on a high note, and it hurts his throat. "I don't know what to do." It doesn't crack again, but it wavers, like the last chord of a piano, tinkering at the end of a piece. "I don't know what to do," he repeats, and the volume of his voice is even weaker than the first time. And _god, he hates this!_ Hates the sniveling and cracks in his surface.

Monet doesn't falter. "About what?"

Luffy bites his lip, teething off a flake of chapped skin. "About," he pauses, "this whole, l-liking someone business." His toes and fingers curl, limbs pulling themselves in closer.

"I knew it!" Ace burst, penetrating the somber atmosphere. "I knew it, I knew it, _I knew it!_ But Sabo was all like, 'Luffy doesn't really think of people like that, Ace'." Ace does a pretty good job of imitating their blond sibling's voice, Luffy notices. "But I was rig—-"

"Ace, darling, please shut the hell up," Monet says chirpily at the same time Luffy interjects, "I _don't_ think of people that way."

There's a tiny glare in Monet's eyes, directed at his brother from the corner of them (but its playful and affectionate, full of butterflies and warmth), before she looks back at Luffy, eyes a soft, glittering amber. "But you like this person?"

Hesitantly, Luffy nods. He's established this. He likes Law.

"But you're scared?" she guesses, hitting a bull's-eye.

And Luffy stiffens, hit and strung by Monet's arrow. He gulps and again, he nods, adding in a childish mumble, "Because I've never felt like this for anyone before. All warm and fluttery and shit. It's weird. And really stupid."

To Luffy's chagrin, Ace cracks a grin, and even Monet smiles a bit, hidden by her small hand. "But, Luffy," Ace's grin grows a little dopey, peeking a look in Monet's direction, "it isn't a bad thing, right? Just how being asexual isn't either." And Ace's eyes are still lingering towards Monet, drawn in like a magnet. He looks so happy, glowing like the campfires they sing around in summer.

Breath in. Breath out. And Luffy feels like there's been a weight lifted off his shoulders. "Yeah, I suppose it isn't."

* * *

**[SMS – 12:01 a.m.] lets go get coffee tomorrow**

* * *

He digs his right big toe into the worn leather of his flip-flop. He crosses his legs underneath his desk, left over right, before sighing in exasperation, blood thrumming beneath his skin. He wants to move, he _needs_ to move.

"All I'm saying is that The Reptilians could totally be real. I mean, it's brilliant! What better way to invade a planet than to take over the government?" Usopp's chest is pressed against the edge of his own desk, and Luffy think it's probably uncomfortable, but the other boy doesn't seem to notice, lost in his excited rambling.

Nami groans, cheek smooshed against her palm. "Usopp, for the last time, our government officials are not aliens." There's a drag in her tone, like this isn't the first they've had this debate. (It isn't.)

Usopp looks almost offended, lips in an exaggerated gasp, before he presses them together, huffing through his nose. Then, he turns his attention to Luffy; apparently deciding to pretend Nami doesn't exist. "Wanna come over after school and play _Bioshock_ with me?"

"Can't," he answers immediately, throwing Usopp a secretive little smile that catches Nami's attention as well. "I have a date."


	10. Not an update, but please read

This is kind of over due, but I just needed to let you guys know that this story will be on a hiatus for now because someone crashed their car into mine and it messed up my left hand a bit, and basically my life has been fucked to hell. So, i'll update this when I can actually get everything in order.


	11. Hello!

First off, I'd like to apologize for my long absence. Somewhere along the way, I got swept up in life and little seemed to matter to me asides from waking up, getting through the day, and going back to bed. Old passions like writing and reading and taking long walks started to become something more of trifles and I simply couldn't convince myself to write for overabundance of apathy and just a crippling feeling of inadequacy. All in all, I'm sorry for anybody who was eagerly awaiting the next chapter of Frayed and enjoyed my writing.

Now, onto my second order of business: out of that stage of my life and in a much healthier state of mind, I've decided that I actually adore this story too much to let it go. Not to say that I'm going to pick up where I left off and start updating from the last piece. No, I'm actually going to be rewriting this story entirely and posting it on a different format (this website doesn't do it for me anymore).

I'll be posting it on archiveofourown under the same pseudonym I use for this site: cvttlefish.

Lastly, I thank you all for your kind support and the favorites my fiction continued to get even after my extended absence! I hope you'll enjoy the rewrite!


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